The Courtesan of Purple Harbor
by workamateur
Summary: Gendry Waters, a man of the Brotherhood Without Banners, travels to the Free Cities in search of help from the Iron Bank of Braavos and the Faceless Men. After four years, the war in Westeros is ongoing. The Brotherhood decides to take matters into their own hands and eliminate those sitting on the Iron Throne. During his trip he finds more than what he originally bargained for.
1. Chapter 1 - Four Years Later

**A/N: Hello All, This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction. Please bear with me. I got this idea for a fic one day and just wanted to explore the possibilities of it. I hope you all enjoy this and find it worthwhile. Please don't be shy and leave reviews and/or suggestions. As a new writer of fanfic I would really appreciate any constructive criticism. Any way, I really hope you like it.**

**Disclaimer: In no way do I own any of these characters. The praise goes to Mr. George R.R. Martin, praise that man. **

Arya:

In the four years since arriving on Braavos, Arya Stark lost count of the many faces she wore. A blond girl, freckled, and innocent…An old crone with greying hair and a hunched posture…An alluring courtesan capable of bringing pleasure to any man without even having to ever touch them. Arya much preferred those aliases to the times she played the parts of Weasel, Cat, Salty, or Lumpyface. Those identities felt too familiar, almost as if she were herself again. Except Arry. She liked playing the part of Arry. It was the last time she felt truly comfortable and safe. That was when she still had him to protect her. That was the last time she ever trusted someone to not leave her.

She sat now on the lower steps of the House of the Red Hands. She was preparing to pose as a healer and infiltrate the building in order to eliminate a rich slaver of Asshai. The slaver traveled to Braavos because of an "ailment". He was in search for a cure from the pox. He contracted it from one of his servants that he took to bed with him, and his wife went mad from the disease once she contracted it. Her family, enraged and humiliated, wanted him to pay. Her father offered to pay an exorbitant amount of money to have the man eliminated. She chose the face of a comely and youthful girl. She thought it would be more enticing for the man to follow. Her plump top lip had the perfect little bow shape her sister Sansa had. Her eyes were masked in a light green rather than her normal silvery grey. Her hair fell in long tresses of caramel to her mid back. She figured her alluring features would make it easier to get the man to follow. Whilst waiting she thought back to her time spent in the Free Cities and her life before.

She finally understood what it meant to work in the trade of secrets. As a young girl she thought the most powerful strength was that of the sword. The knights brandishing long swords and the kings wielding war hammers were the weak ones. Since leaving home she realized that the power of words was much more influential than brute force. Not to say that she still didn't crave the security that holding a blade in her hand brought to her. It's not that she really had a home any longer to go back to. They'd taken it from her. She felt the compulsion to repeat her mantra from so long ago. The words Cersei Lannister…Walder Frey…Ilyn Pane… bubble up from her throat leaving an acidic taste in their wake. No, she stops herself. She is not that girl any longer. She is no one. She needs to be completely focused on the task at hand. After all, the Asshai man's murder must look like an accident.

She started apprenticing in the House of Black and White upon her arrival to the Free Cities. Since then she traveled to the whorehouses of Lys, the Magisters of Pentos, and to the coast of Volantis. When she first arrived the Kindly Man and the Waif schooled her in the languages of Braavosi and High Valyrian. Now she was a girl of one-and-seven working the docks of The Purple Harbor, or speaking to the sailors of the Seven Kingdoms while frequenting Ragman's Harbor. Her nights are spent going between the Inn of the Green Eel, the Happy Port, and Moroggo's. When not occupied with her brothers of the Faceless Men she duels for fun with other Braavosi at the Moon Pool. On those evenings she creeps out of the House of Black and White and sneaks towards the canal. There she retrieves needle from below the loose bricks she hid it under all those years ago and makes her way over to spar with the sailors.

Abruptly she is pulled from her thoughts in order to look for the man. As she looks to the surrounding crowd passing the stairs of the House of Red Hands she sees the target. The Kindly Man told her he was a man of about fifteen stone and not much taller than she. He was stout and more round than tall. Flanking him were four slaves all wearing collars of bronze. The gall of this man to be accompanied by slaves in one of the nine free cities, but nobility always thought themselves better than the others. She may not even have to kill this man; the swordsmen of Braavos may challenge him to a duel because of his lack of respect for their customs. Before he sees her, she slips into her black robe and lifts her hair from underneath to lie above the hood. She slinks up to the top stair and awaits his arrival. The man quickly makes his was to the building and looks upon her. She silently motions for him to follow her. How arrogant she thinks… he does not even question her but just assumes she is there to greet him. She abruptly turns her back to him and opens the large mahogany doors of the House of the Red Hands and leads him inside.

Gendry:

Gendry was now a man of one-and-twenty and a Ser of the Hollow Hill. In his time as a Knight of the Brotherhood Without Banners he became their blacksmith, and one of their leading warriors. No longer was he the young apprentice of Tobho Mott; he now defended the small folk of the Riverlands from the ongoing war. In the last five years countless lords and houses battled for the seat of the Iron Throne. The Lannisters of Casterly Rock barely held their grip on the seat. The Greyjoys of Pike, the Tullys of Riverrun, the Freys, and Boltons, the Baratheons and many other houses and all their banner men battled for the upper hand. The Queen from across the Narrow Sea, Daenerys Targaryen threatened all of Westeros with the promise of growing dragons. To the North, the looming threat of wildings and white walkers plagued the nightmares of children and grown men alike. All but the Starks. At the thought of the Northerners his jaw clenched tightly and his teeth ground together. He forcefully ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. This had become a common occurrence, he thought about the Starks almost everyday, or at least one in particular. Arya.

Currently Gendry sat with his back up against a burly tree with a particularly uncomfortable knot of wood near his spine. His whetstone in his left hand and long sword in right, he sharpened the blade of his castle-forged steel. He found the process calming and rhythmic, almost like a prayer. He thought back to a time not so long ago and of a different prayer, one that was whispered on the lips of Arya. The words Cersei Lannister…Walder Frey…Ilyn Pane… the Hound, after all they were the reason that he fought all these years. He battled to avenge his dead friend Arya Stark, the little wolf. If only he went with her rather than join the Brotherhood. She never would have ran off and ended up at the Twins. Roose Bolton's bastard paraded around a girl who he claimed to be Arya, but Gendry knew better. He saw the girl once in passing and knew it wasn't his friend. At the time he heard she was to marry Ramsay he could not help but to be excited. Although the prospect of Arya marrying bothered him a bit he was glad to know she was safe. He thought he would finally see her again and be able to make sure that she was alive and well. But, it wasn't her. His hopes of finding her were destroyed when he saw a common girl with brown hair who looked nothing like Arya and lacked all of her fire and spirit. Despite the years separating them he knew he would be able to recognize her. That girl was not her, just a ploy to obtain the North.

Thoros had suggested sending an envoy to the Free Cities and to try getting financial assistance from the Iron Bank. The old priest thought it would be best to look for help outside of Westeros. Naturally, as one of the first and longest members of the Brotherhood, Gendry was asked. So now as he sat on the dirt floor under the shade of the large tree he thought of the proposition. There was only so much fighting was good for. After all winning battles does not mean winning the war. What they needed was money and to eliminate a certain problem by the name of Cersei Lannister. What the other men of the Brotherhood did not know was that aside from going to the Iron Bank in the hopes of attaining some funding for the commoners and their cause, Thoros also wanted to enlist the help of the Faceless Men. The Queen was proving to be troublesome with showing no regard for the safety of the people of Kings Landing. While the Lannisters feasted in the Red Keep, commoners were dying of starvation every day. With no influence other than his mother, King Tommen was becoming the spitting image of his late brother Joffrey. He showed no regard for his people and looked at the position of being king as one of power and manipulation. Gendry heard stories of the young King that would make even the most experienced warrior cringe.

He did not feel comfortable with the idea of hiring an assassin, but what else was there to do? If they wanted to find a way to help the Seven Kingdoms some things had to be done. Was it worth killing one person to save the lives of countless people? Maybe if he could bargain with the Faceless Men to do it in the most humane way possible it would become just? He knew that if any other man were sent in his place they would not ask for that mercy. That is when he decided he must go to Braavos.


	2. Chapter 2 - To Braavos

**A/N: I can't stop writing. It's an addiction. I hope some of you stick with this and give it a chance. Constructive criticism and any suggestions are ALWAYS appreciated. Enjoy! **

Arya:

As she pushed the large doors in front of her open the young healer waited for the Asshai'i in tow to follow her. When she hears the heavy footfalls of the rotund man reverberate off the walls of the empty room she smirks to herself slightly. After the man greedily eyed her small frame and captivating figure he smiled darkly to his slaves and waved them off. They obediently waited outside for the return of their master. The winding path through the building contained so many twists and turns and stairs that it would be nearly impossible for the visitor to find his way out again. With Arya's years of experience she easily navigated the way.

Once she brought him to a private room the man sat down on the hard backed chair with a resounding thud. To her amusement the chair seems unsteady due to the enormity of the man and he had to readjust his weight. She turns away from him and leans over a mixture of poultices and herbs in order to look like she mixing something. As she busies herself with the roots and powders she hears the chair shift and the heavy footfalls of the target as he comes up behind her. The man's warm moist breath falls on the back of her neck. _Listen with your ears, _she thinks back to her dancing lessons all those years ago. As he goes to place his hand on her lower back she tries to calm herself from doing anything rash… like stabbing him in the gut. She was used to this behavior from men. Whenever she wore the face of the Lysene courtesan men groped after her trying to touch whatever part of her they could. She learned all the best places to conceal a knife and all the easiest ways to ensnare a man into obtaining whatever information she desired with just a few whispered words.

She waited for the target to get closer and reached down to feel the short blade concealed along her inner arm. Good, she felt the cool metal against her forearm. It was easily accessible and she was definitely faster than her companion. Just as he went to grab hold of her wrist and try to say something to her, Arya abruptly turned around as if to ask the patient a question. He grumbled to himself and sat back down when she leaned over him. She began to ask him questions about his sickness. She inquired, "How long had he been suffering from it"? "Was it terribly painful"?, "What were his symptoms"? When he responded his voice was raspy and laced with lust. He introduces himself as Avarice Ardorio and explains about his lavish lifestyle and immeasurable wealth. His eyes greedily roamed over the planes of Arya's face and the line of her collarbone. She holds back the shiver of disgust threatening to overcome her. She must remain impassive.

The slaver is ignorant of her repulsion as he becomes more engrossed in talking about himself. _Gods,_ Arya thinks, _does this man ever stop speaking? I want to slice his throat from ear to ear just so I wont have to hear his guttural speech any longer. _The man starts discussing his jewels the size of a robin's egg and diamonds as bright and round as the full moon. _Does he think this impresses me, _Arya thought. Avarice Ardorio becomes so enraptured in discussing himself he starts to speak robustly. He gives her a covetous look that is accentuated by the spiddle covering his lips. The man was truly repulsive. Everything about him seemed gluttonous. _And that damned chair keeps squeaking each time he adjusts his seat._ She lets out a great huff of frustration.

Today she would be working in a team with her long-term partner. Whenever a task was high profile the Kindly Man required two people to accomplish the job. It frustrated Arya; she'd been doing this for years now, why did she need a partner? If it were someone else accompanying her she would have put up more of a fight. She quietly informed the "patient" of her decision for treatment. She mixed a salve for him to take with him and explained that he should rub it on himself twice a day. She also mixed him a drought of sleep but told him that it was a medicine for the discomfort. She suggested he take the first dose while still here. Once he was asleep her partner would come in and dispose of him in a way that made it seem accidental. As she administered the allotted portion of the sleep draught the man suggested drinking a glass of wine to help it go down.

"What do you say, my sweet. Something sweet to help us move along"? His laugh, which he presumed would ease her sounded like the cackle of a hyena, a wild animal she encountered in her time traveling the Free Cities. _Patience_, she thought, _Calm as still water._ She poured to glasses of wine as the man went to grope her. She readily sat on his lap as she handed him the two liquids. "I was starting to think you'd show no interest," he rasped, "but all women do once they hear of my jewels." She gave him a small smile, which did not reach her eyes. He fondled her back as his eyes slowly began to droop. In his last moments of consciousness she whispers, "This is for your wife." His gaze becomes alarmed just before he completely goes under. Arya stands up and within moments the man's fat overflows the chair and one of the legs cracks underneath his weight. She laughs to herself and thinks, _at least the chair wont make an annoying noise anymore._ She slips through the door and removes the mask of the comely young girl and shakes out her long dark hair. She reverses her cloak so the purple inside now covers her back, and places her colorful feather hat on. As she makes her way to the end of the hall she sees a tuft of orange and white hair slip into the room she just left and she proceeds to the exist. _Good, _she thinks, _he made it in no time. _

Gendry:

He packed provisions for two weeks. It consisted of mostly dried meats and hard cheeses. The Inn spared him a few fruits and a couple flasks of water and one flagon of wine. Thoros pressed a pouch of gold dragons into his hand and one square iron coin. It read "valar morghulis" in a crude writing. During his trip Gendry was to plead their case to the Iron Bank. He was to promise the return of all the funds the Crown owed them over the years once they removed the Lannisters from their seat of power. Then, he needed to go to the House of Black and White and meet with the Faceless Men. When Thoros still lived in Braavos and studied under the red priests he knew someone in the guild. In honor of his travels the Red Priest decided to throw a small dinner. The Inn provided enough ale for the party and enough whores for the men. Much to the amusement of his companions, Gendry denied both. He needed a clear head if he was to travel and the ale would just slow him down come morning. Being a bastard himself made him look at women differently. He would never be able to leave a bastard in one of these girls' bellies. Growing up alone all his life taught him to have an appreciation of the thing he longed for most, a family.

While the men gathered around the fire and reminisced about old war stories, Gendry recalled something completely different. The laughs and drunken singing of his companions became drowned out by his own thoughts. It was right before the time he joined The Brotherhood**.** Lord Beric planned to ransom Arya back to her brother. Him and the little wolf were sitting in the dark of night talking about what would happen once the war ended. Arya was speaking with such fervor about Winterfell he couldn't help but smile down at her. Whenever she spoke of her family her eyes lit with excitement and her words would blur together because she spoke so quickly. It seemed as if she was racing to see how swiftly she could say them so that she would be able to start a new train of thought without finishing the last. Times like this reminded him that she was just an innocent girl trying to reunite with her family.

He swore to himself that he would bring her back to her family, and by gods he would. In their short time together he grew attached to her and only wanted the best for her. In his seventeen years no one ever relied on him like she did. He wanted to deserve that trust. Once they arrived at Riverrun or Winterfell where did that leave him? He knew the Starks would reward him but he didn't want it. He just wanted to remain with Arya. She quickly mentioned that her brother Robb would let him smith at Winterfell. He smiled at her naivety. Even if he remained to work at the castle it's not as if they would be able to remain the same, she was a lady after all. He still didn't respond.

"Oi', Stupid. Would you want to stay on at Winterfell once we get there"? He shook his head at the name and knew she was meant it as a term of endearment. Gendry chuckled and looked upon her and felt his heart swell. Arya wanted him to stay with her, but it would just make things more complicated. He answered, "These men are brothers, almost like a family. I thought it best to stay with them. I meant to tell you this evening." Gendry had been thinking about it for the past few days. It would be the easiest thing, a clean break. He watched as she clenched her delicate jaw and her silver eyes flicked up to meet his. In that second he knew he hurt her. He'd never seen her look so vulnerable in the seven months of traveling together. He saw her shakily swallow and was surprised by the next words out of her mouth. "I can be your family." His heart swelled. He'd never known how much he wanted a family until she made it a possibility. But no, he shouldn't think these things about a Lord's daughter. This was Lady Arya Stark of Winterfell. He looked upon her sadly with longing and replied, "You wouldn't be my family, you'd be milady."

He was brought out of his reverie when Harwin chucked a pebble in his direction. "Mate stop sulking, this is in your honor. Have some fun, with some luck we'll never have to see your ugly face again." Gendry chuckled at that. Leave it to Harwin to tease him before he embarks on this long journey. He responds, "You're right, after all I'm getting on a ship and I can't even swim." He looks to Thoros and says, "I think you picked the wrong person, what if I drown during the voyage," only half kidding. At that the circle of men all erupt in laughter and Lem Lemoncloak thumps him on the back and raises his glass. He shouts, "To Gendry." An echo of the sentiment goes around the circle from the other men. Slowly the men disperse in groups of one and two and the camp gradually becomes quieter. With a final huff Gendry lays on his back and thinks of his upcoming voyage. Come morrow he would be leaving Westeros.


	3. Chapter 3 - Almost

**A/N: I am really trying to make things seem realistic and not too forced. I'm sorry if the story is starting slower than you all thought it would. I'd really like for it to develop fluidly. With that I hope you find it interesting, or at least readable. I wonder if you are enjoying it. I have no idea how you guys feel about the story so let me know if you have any suggestions, criticisms, or things you'd really like to see played out. Thanks for reading! I'll leave you with that… Also, Gendry/Arya chapter is coming up VERY soon (as in the next one).**

Arya:

After every kill she went to sit on the docks of Purple Harbor. It was similar to a ritual she saw her father do all throughout her childhood. Lord Eddard Stark would sit beneath the weirwood and pray to the Old Gods, while cleaning his long sword Ice. She liked to sit on the wood of the port and feel the coarseness of the timber beneath her fingers. The salty smell of the water tickled her nose as she breathed deeply. She enjoyed tipping her head upwards ever so slightly as to catch the sun on her face. Arya took a deep calming breath and listened to everything around her. Quickly, she removed her cloak and pulled off her leather sandals. Slowly, she let her toes dangle above the crisp water and then deliberately immersed them into the sea. The coolness awakened the dull feeling consistently permeating her limbs. The habit of coming to the docks became the closest thing she felt to being at home. When she closed her eyes it was as if she were back in the Godswood. The only way she could tell the difference was because of the salty smell to the water rather than the sweet scent of the pond back in Winterfell. Around her the guttural yells of the men came from the ships.

They never paid much attention, to her as Arya. To them she just looked like a small girl in the clothes of a Braavosi commoner. Every once in a while they would exchange some words about what news they brought from their voyage. They never realized that they saw her more often than they thought. Arya frequented Purple Harbor as the Lysene Courtesan. When meeting with clients of the House of Black and White she liked to dress as the concubine. The face was so different from her own that it would be nearly impossible to know she doubled as the coveted woman. On those nights the seamen lusted after her and longed for her company. The waif escorted her as a servant and the men begged for the honor of gifting her trinkets from across the seas. She wore gowns of blue the color of midnight and dresses of black as dark as a moonless sky. The colors identified her as nobility. She much preferred the breaches she donned now. Arya would never become accustomed to the hungry looks she got from men when she dressed as the courtesan.

She enjoyed the silence being Arya brought her. It allowed her to think of her old life without the Kindly Man questioning her or the Waif watching her knowingly. Arya rarely had the opportunity to wear her own face. Quietly she began to sing to herself. _"__And the stars in the night were the eyes of his wolf, and the wind itself was their song." _A sailor from Westeros introduced her to the song during her first summer in Braavos. She was selling cockles, clams, and mussels to a vessel in from White Harbor. When he said the word 'wolf' her curiosity peaked. He explained that the words were about the dead King of the North. At the time her heart clenched and the name Robb came to mind. She had to run off the barge and left all of the fresh fish on the boat. Arya ran through the streets until she was lost and spent two days beneath a bridge curled into herself. She cried until her sobs wracked her body uncontrollably and her tears ran dry. The day she came out from beneath the bridge was the first time she truly felt like no one. Now she sang the words to feel close to her family, they didn't bother her in the same way. The sentence reminded her she was still a wolf. The song brought the faces of Jon, Bran, her father, Sansa, her mother, and Rickon to mind. Sometimes she even saw Gendry.

At the thought of Gendry her lips quirked up to the side in a smile that was barely there. She often wondered where he was and what he was doing. Arya began to chuckle to herself at the memory of him. Looking back she realized it was such an innocent type of love they shared. They fought fiercely, each one more stubborn than the other. In the short time they spent together they learned to communicate without having to speak. Just a look from Arya and Gendry knew what she wanted. A glance to Arya and she already reacted to his questioning gaze. At the time Arya thought of him as a friend. But, he was so much more than that. He acted as her constant in such a tumultuous time. When he decided to leave her she was devastated, he told her he would never abandon her. Now she understood that he did what he thought was best. It was too late though. She was no longer Arya and there was no way that she'd ever see him again.

The girl was so engrossed with the shadows of her past that she did not notice her company. "A girl should keep her wits about her. It is not usual for her to be so obtuse." With a flurry of movement, she jumped to attention and became so unsettled she fell off the dock and into the cool water below. She began to sputter and thrash about. A string of profanities were muttered underneath her breath. The man snickered to himself and instinctively reached out a hand to Arya. Begrudgingly, she took it and pulled herself up and out of the water. The bulky man settled himself on the pier. He looked up from where he was sitting to see her attempt to shake herself dry. The thin material of her breeches clung to her shapely waist and her silk blouse coated her chest like a second skin. He chuckled softly. In that moment she looked like the wolf in which her house sigil was designed after. With a huff she sat herself down again and looked at him from the corner of her eye. She tried to hold back her own laughter and failed miserably. He said, "A man did not mean to frighten a girl. But he has been searching for her to tell her the deed is done." She looked at him questioningly and he gave her a curt bow of his head.

Jaqen H'ghar returned to Braavos three years earlier. On the first night of his return he went to pay his respects to the temple of the Many-Faced God and to meet with the members of the Faceless Men. That night Arya was asked to bring food and wine to a returning member of the guild. She remembered knocking on the door and waiting to be admitted into the room. When she looked up into the face of Jaqen she opened her mouth as if to say something but no words escaped. For the first six months she followed him and watched the way he worked. When the Kindly Man said she was ready, he allowed the two to travel across the nine Free Cities so that Arya could become more accustomed with the culture and people there. Now, three years later, Arya and Jaqen acted as a team. He was the closest thing she had to a friend on the island of Braavos.

She suggested walking back to the temple to return the face of the healer. Gracefully they both stood up and silently walked off the dock and into the bustling crowd of Purple Harbor. They stopped at a street urchin and Arya purchased some fresh seafood. They shared a plate of mussels as they navigated their way through the streets. After a few minutes they arrived at the doors of the temple. Jaqen opened the weirwood door on the left and held it open for his small companion. Obstinately, Arya grabbed the right door of ebony and walked through it. She heard him mutter, "stubborn girl." The Waif waited for them in the center of the room by the pool. She gave the pair a questioning look and they both nodded in affirmation. In the common tongue she informed them, "We've had word from the Seven Kingdoms. An envoy will be here within a fortnight. They would like to meet with us and ask for us kill their Queen."

Gendry:

Gendry arrived in Maidenpool earlier that morning. He'd made good timing and was ahead of schedule. Upon his arrival he sold the destrier he was riding and bought passage aboard a ship heading to Braavos. Lord Randyll Tarly completely rebuilt the town after it had been sacked at the beginning of the War of the Five Kings. He made his way through the town on foot. To his left was the tower Jonquil supposedly stayed in during the Dance with Dragons hundreds of years ago. To his right were the renowned pink stonewalls of the harbor. Ahead he saw a tavern by the name of the Stinking Goose. He walked through the open door and onto a floor of straw. The place smelled of mildew and the room was dark and damp.

He strode up to the bar and sat on the only available stool next to an old man. The man had to be above six feet tall and was hunched over while leaning on the bar top. Gendry looked to the tavern wench and ordered a bowl of stew and glass of mead. He abruptly looked down when he felt warm liquid pool on his kneecap. The head of a large dog rested on his leg, drooling out of the side of its mouth. He tried to agreeably shove the animal off of his lap while the man next to him laughed freely. "Gods Dog, stop it or I'll have to leave you outside." When Gendry looked down at the retreating dog he saw the man next to him was barefoot and in the attire of a Septon. The man looked to Gendry and held his hand out. "The name is Meribald," he announced. "It's a pleasure," responded Gendry.

"So what brings you to Maidenpool chap"?

"I'm looking for passage to Braavos."

"You best make your way to the pool before you go. It's said the waters here are lucky. The townsfolk say it is where Florian first spied Jonquil bathing with her sisters."

With that the man introduced himself as a Septon and went into a long-winded account of his travels up and down the Riverlands. He spoke of his time traveling the coast and visiting the small villages of people. He told Gendry of how it takes him a half-year to travel and preach to all of the commoners. Meribald recounted the stories he heard during this current journey as well. By the time the old Septon took a second to breathe, Gendry looked outside and saw it was almost nightfall. He needed to leave to the ship soon.

"Was there any trouble on the King's Road, lad"?

"I wouldn't know. I traveled through the woods."

"Young man, the woods are a dangerous place. The people speak of a she-beast that leads a pack of hundreds of wolves. They say she is the biggest wolf that's been seen in the last two hundred years, and she is as large as she is ferocious."

Gendry had heard stories of the wolf traveling the Riverlands, but he never thought much of it. A few months ago Thoros recounted tales of a wolf who attacked Lannister men and lead a group of animals with her. _Well, it shouldn't concern me now_, he thought. But, as he shook off the idea of the beast an image of Arya came unbidden to his head. He paid for his meal and mead and also paid for the food of the Septon. He shook the man's calloused hand and with that he exited the tavern. By the light of the setting sun Gendry made his way to the ship. Up ahead he saw the purple body of the galley and three masts with purple sails.

The captain of the ship Ternesio Terys met him at the bottom of the plank. His son Yorko took Gendry's bags and led him to his cabin. They told him to get settled and then to come on deck for dinner. The cabin wasn't too small. It consisted of a single straw bed and a desk with a few books on it. A few years ago Gendry would not have been able to do anything with the books. He asked Thoros to teach him to read about two years ago. He looked forward to skimming through these texts and seeing what they were about. Gendry walked over to the desk and ran his hand along the leather spine of one of the books. He placed his pouch on the floor and his long sword beneath the mattress. After taking in his surroundings he exited the room and went on deck.

The Titan's Daughter was a trading galleass with a double bank of oars below. The number of men eating up above was overwhelming. The captain caught sight of Gendry and motioned for him to go to him. Ternesio informed him that not many of the other men were familiar with the common tongue of Westeros. They both sat on one of the benches and tucked into a plate of mutton stew. The commander informed Gendry of what his ship carried and what they traded. He asked Gendry why a Westerosi like himself would be going to Braavos. In turn, he told the Braavosi that he was going to plead the case of the Brotherhood Without Banners to the Iron Bank. Yorko choked on his ale from trying to hold back a laugh. His father smacked him off the back of his head.

"Please forgive my son, he forgets himself."

"It's not a problem at all, Sir."

"It is just that the Iron Bank is enraged with the Seven Kingdoms at the present time. I wish you the best of luck but I do not think they will listen to your plea."

"Well then, I guess I should have visited the pool for a bit of luck after all."

The captain looked at him as if to question his sanity and then just shook it off. They then began to discuss the differences in culture between Westeros and the Free Cities. After having his fill of ale and stew Gendry rose from the table and watched the open ocean. The cool breeze on his face was invigorating. He walked to the railing on the side and closed his eyes. The sound of the crashing waves against the body of the ship calmed him and he took in a deep breath and filled his lungs with the fresh air. He heard foot steps come to a rest beside him and opened his eyes. He shifted his gaze downward to see Yorko the captain's son. The boy looked as if he wanted to ask Gendry something. He patiently waited for the other to say something and gave him a reassuring smile. He learned that sometimes the best way to make someone one talk is to just wait patiently rather than ask the question outright. After some time he heard the boy ask,

"What is Westeros like? Its just that father rarely lets me off the boat when we dock in different harbors and I just want to know what else there is in the world."

That took Gendry off guard. Beside him this boy traveled from country to country, from place to place and was asking what Gendry knew of the world? Aside from King's Landing he only ever travelled the Riverlands and visited some keeps of Lords. Even in his limited experience, he understood that it must be sad traveling from all around the world with no familiar faces for company except for your father. The boy never experienced anything other than living confined on the ship. Gendry took pity on him and spoke to him of King's Landing and working for Tobho Mott as an apprentice years ago. He then talked about leaving the capital and traveling on the road for about six months. At that, the boy's eyes widened in amazement. Gendry left out all of the gruesome details of that time. Then he explained about joining the Brotherhood and how they'd been fighting ever since. Yorko mentioned that he'd only ever met one other Westerosi and that was four years ago. He told Gendry the story of the girl who asked for passage on their ship. They picked her up in Saltpans and left her in Braavos. He then told Gendry of how he never saw her again but looked for her whenever they docked back home. Gendry smiled to himself. It seemed as if the two of them had something in common. They both became smitten with these two girls with no hope of ever seeing either of them again. Gendry patted the younger boy on the back empathetically and then dismissed himself to retire to his cabin. Once again he found himself thinking of Arya as he sat in bed. It seemed as if she crept into his thoughts more often than usual since he embarked on this journey.

**Haha, it seems as if Arya has another admirer. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this update, and something new should be coming soon hopefully. **


	4. Chapter 4 - The Sealord's Refuge

**A/N: I'm really overwhelmed by the amount of traffic this is getting. I hope to do you justice and get you to keep coming back. With that I have to say that this may be updated a little less frequently. At a minimum, I'll probably post once a week. I have midterms and exams, I'm really sorry for the delay up until now. I'd really like to thank one of my readers ****HarryPotterNut94****. They consistently review and let me know how they feel about what's going on. I wish the rest of you would do that as well. I'm new here and sort of out of my element; so your opinions and insight would be a lot of help. I'm just curious as to your feelings about things. As always reviews, private messages, and any suggestions are greatly appreciated and welcomed. **

**It's the chapter we've all been waiting for. AHH. This one was switched up and Gendry comes first. **

Gendry:

He spent the past three days on Braavos meeting with officials of the Iron Bank. After much pleading, groveling, and begging, the answer he received was a resounding no. The knight vowed to return to them. After all he could not afford to fail. His brothers relied on him. He'd never become used to this trust that people put in him, very few ever did. Aside from Thoros, Lem, and Tom, only one other person ever trusted him implicitly. How did he pay her back? He repaid that trust by abandoning her. Till the last of his days the look of utter disappointment and betrayal that filled Arya's stormy gaze would haunt him.

Gendry understood their reluctance; they'd been denied their retribution by all the kings vying for control of Westeros. But his men were different, how did they not see that? The Brotherhood only wanted what was best for the commoners. They fought to make the regime a better one. They endured in the memory of the fallen heroes, Lord Eddard, Beric, and Jon Arryn, and for the nameless soldiers who gave their lives for the cause. The money would provide for the townsfolk that starved, for the weapons needed to win back the kingdom, and for the families of the men who fought valiantly and died. The Brotherhood wanted to right the wrongs of Lords and Ladies of court. With the money of Braavos, Westeros would be reborn. Not getting the loan was problematic in more ways then one. Now there was no way to pay the Faceless Men. If Gendry returned now, failing in both his tasks, his brothers would be crestfallen. His time in Braavos appeared to be useless.

Gendry stayed in an inn by the name of the Foghouse. Its entrance was beneath the second arch of Nabbo's Bridge. The bar area had barely enough room to house more than ten people and it was small, cramped, and dirty. Stairs behind the bar led to the few rooms below. The knight occupied one of the four rooms in the basement. Seeing as he'd be in Braavos longer than he'd expected, he needed to ration his funds so that they'd last the remainder of the trip. His room was tiny and dark, and the smell of decay permeated the atmosphere. But no one bothered him and the payment was dirt-cheap. He just ordered a tub of hot water to his room and was waiting to wash the grime from him before his meeting with the assassin. He looked at the clothed laid out before him. They were an array of second hand garments of the Braavosi custom. He decided that when he met the killer he would disguise himself. What if something were to go wrong and the man came after him? Gendry could not defend himself against the guild of Faceless Men. The keeper of the inn lent him a feathered cloak in bright colors. Gendry purchased a large hat that shadowed his face in darkness and fell over his brow covering his hair. He rid himself of the heavy breeches of Westerosi custom and switched them with a lighter pair. He hadn't shaved since he left Westeros over two weeks ago. His beard grew thick but close to his face and covered his defined jaw line. The knight was nearly unrecognizable. He'd even decided to speak differently in order to cover his voice and accent so that he wouldn't sound like he was from the Seven Kingdoms. _Maybe he was going a bit overboard, _he thought. A soft knock on the door informed him the bath water was ready. He padded over to the door and unlocked it. The barman dragged in the large tub for Gendry and also handed him something thin and black. When the other man left, he held up the gift and realized it was a mask that covered the upper half of his face. He smiled at the kind gesture of the older man. He walked back over to the tub of steaming water and slunk slowly into its depths. Gently his eyes fluttered closed.

Arya:

_Where was he, _she thought? Arya sat at one of the private dining areas of the Sealord's Refuge. It was one of the nicest inns in all of Braavos, in the center of Purple Harbor. She wore the face of the courtesan. Her light blonde hair fell in perfect curls to just above her buttocks. Her dress was of the darkest blue and clung to her curves in all the right places. She always hated dresses that would never change. The dark makeup she swept across the courtesan's eyelids gave her a heavy lid. Her skin the color of cream resembled her own smooth face, but her appearance was more rounded and softer. The one thing a Faceless Man could not change was their eye color. Arya liked that; it helped remind her of her own humanity, that somewhere she still existed.

She'd been waiting for the Westerosi for what seemed close to a half hour. She didn't like to wait. In a few more minutes she'd get up and leave. She slowly brought her glass up to her full lips and sipped the glass of sweet wine filled with fruits. Many men offered to buy the Courtesan of Purple Harbor a drink, but she'd only accepted the one carafe of wine. Arya was no longer the impatient young girl she'd been in her youth. Jaqen taught her to master her fiery spirit, but that didn't mean she wasn't annoyed with the tardiness of her client. Her partner offered to accompany her, she declined. Whenever she met with someone from the Seven Kingdoms she liked to do it alone. Jaqen was a reminder of her worst times spent at home; she didn't like to have him there whenever she met someone from her homeland. With a huff of frustration she looked up from her glass and saw a tall man stumble into the front of the bar.

From the door of her private room she watched him hurriedly rush over to the owner of the establishment and demand something of him. She chuckled at his odd dress and the way he stumbled over his own cloak. The man was tall of build, with broad shoulders, and a thin waist. The two conversed for a few second and then she saw the man look to her. _The Westerosi,_ she thought. There seemed something familiar about him. She shrugged the irrational thought away; she always felt the people she met from back home were familiar. It was probably just because they were the closest things she'd get to see the people from home again. She found the flustered behavior of the man oddly endearing. Quickly she shook herself and regained her composure. _Gods, _she thought, _focus Arya, you're a woman of the Faceless Men. _

The man slowly made his way over to her and entered through the door. The other men of the establishment threw jealous looks to his back. Arya quietly shut the door behind him and took her seat again. Upon closer inspection she saw his sword on his belt, and feathered cape. She looked up into his face and forced herself to hold back a laugh. He wore a huge hat and mask that covered most of his face. Unbidden, the though of how full his lips were came to mind. _Focus Arya._ She motioned for him to sit and he quickly took the seat opposite her. She poured him a glass of the wine and he took it gratefully. "Thank you mi'lady." Her head shot up and looked into the face of the man across from her. Arctic gray eyes met crystal blue ones and she almost spit some of the wine out that she just gulped. _It couldn't be. It's just that I've been thinking of him so often that everything reminds me of him._ The man opened his mouth to speak,

"I must apologize for making you wait. Something came up and left me preoccupied."

"No bother, Sir. How can I help you"?

She looked to the man again and saw that the ends of his hair were wet beneath his hat and his gaze appeared a little foggy. Her lips quirked up to the side in a hidden smile, _He fell asleep,_ she thought. Rather than irk her, his errors amused her. She brought her gaze level to his and patiently waited for him to speak. Again his piercing blue gaze forced her stomach to tighten and she watched him enraptured by his mannerisms and familiarity. Arya knew those eyes. She found herself holding back the urge to laugh as he spoke in a ludicrous accent. _What was this man doing to her? He was making cold-hearted and stone-faced Arya Stark laugh, _she thought. She pursed her lips together at the notion and refocused her attention on what he said. For some reason she couldn't fight off the feeling of thinking she knew him though.

"We'd like for someone from you organization to accompany us back to Westeros and aid in the removal of the current ruler."

She nodded her head in understanding. She watched him watch her. He didn't seem flabbergasted by the courtesan's beauty like other men were. He didn't look after her lustfully or make her feel uncomfortable in this face like the other men did. If anything he looked a bit apprehensive. _Well he should be, I'm a killer. _She gave him a piercing gaze just for the fun of it. The sip of wine that filled his mouth dribbled down his chin as he looked at her in fear. This time Arya couldn't help it she laughed freely.

"Relax, Ser. I will cause you no harm. The organization is partial to your cause and will carry out the act for a smaller price than necessary. I will go myself with a partner. Now all that's left to discuss is payment…What did you say your name was"?

She watched as he scrunched up his face in thought and smirked when she realized he would give her a false name. _I must start listening to him; I keep missing what he says. Oh crap, he just said his name and I missed it._

"Pardon me, I became caught up in my own thoughts, what did you say your name was again"?

"Arry."

She dropped her glass of wine and it fell to the floor in a hundred pieces. She looked into the stranger's face again. The suspicious feeling in her stomach came back in full force and she watched the man for any hint of recognition. _It can't be, it must be coincidence. How? No, I must have had too much wine or something. His beard is too scruffy and his face looks different, not as defined._ _That's probably because of the facial hair though. _But as she tried to rationalize her foolish feelings she looked into his face and knew the clear blues looking at her were the same of her past. _His hat covers his hair, and the Gendry she knew would be dumb enough to wear a mask and think it a good disguise. _All these ideas rushed through her head in a matter of seconds. She felt the sudden urge to pull off his mask and remove his hat.

"Ser, do not lie to me for I will know if you tell me false. Where are you from in Westeros."

He looked at her hesitantly but she saw the resolve in his features as he decided to answer he truthfully. _It was now or never, _she thought. _How is it that of all of the people in Westeros he was sent as an envoy?_

"Mi'lady, I was born in King's Landing, but now I reside in the Riverlands."

"And you say you fight for the Brotherhood Without Banners"?

He nodded his head in affirmation.

"I've been fighting with them for over four years."

"What is your real name"?

Seconds passed but it felt like a millennium. Her breath caught in her throat as we waited in anticipation. Arya felt her heart rate pick up and stop completely at the same time. Her mouth went dry and her tongue roughly scratched against the roof of her mouth. She felt her pulse pound in her ears as she watched the man across from her. _How could she be so stupid? He looks exactly the same only older. But how could he forget her, how could he not recognize her? After all it wasn't that long._ She began to resent him for not recognizing her. That is when she reached up to her neck to readjust her hair and saw the blonde run through her fingers. _He doesn't know it's me because I do not look like me. _For the first time in a long time Arya wanted to rip off the mask she was wearing. She gripped the wooden table in front of her tightly in order to steady her hands.

"My name is Gendry Waters."

Time stopped, she stared at him dumbfounded. Elation and disgust ran through her blood at the same time. It mixed together in her veins and it made her dizzy. A sense of fogginess came over her and she felt herself choke on the words stuck in her throat. She wanted to latch on to him and never let go of him and run from the room shouting and crying. She couldn't decide which was worse.

"Mi'lady, are you alright."

She stole herself against the emotions running haywire through her body and nodded. Arya reached her left hand over the table and rested her hand on the brim of his hat. He stiffened beneath her touch. Painstakingly slowly she lifted the large hat off of his head. Once it was off he shook his hair out and one of the water droplets from his damp locks landed on her cheek. She left it there. The mop of hair on his head was the coal black she remembered and as messy as the last time she'd seen it. Gently she guided her fingers to his face and pried the mask that covered the top portion of his head off. His beard scratched at her wrist. It tickled. He must have been too dumbstruck to react because he never moved. Her thoughts were in a jumble and she couldn't organize any of the mess in her head. She sat back in her chair and in a timid whisper told him the meeting was over. She told him to go to Moroggo's tomorrow evening after dark.

Quickly he grabbed his entire garb and briskly exited the room and closed the door. If he was fazed by her odd behavior he showed nothing. As soon as he exited the area Arya lifted her fingers, the same fingers that just touched the face of Gendry, to her neck and pulled the face of the courtesan from her. She stuffed it into the bag she carried and pulled out her white cotton blouse and men's breeches. Arya ripped the dress from her body and hurriedly changed. The disguise of the courtesan was haphazardly stuffed into her bag. Running from the room she looked to the owner and asked him which way the man just exited.

She stealthily crept along the cobblestones of the street and looked ahead. Arya had to know where he was staying. She wound her way through the avenues following Gendry. Within minutes of walking the roads of Braavos she found him. He was walking with his head down and briskly maneuvering his way. She watched him turn down an alleyway between two buildings and followed him. By the time she got to the end of the passage he was already midway across a bridge. They were on the 'bridge of eyes'. She almost snorted at the irony. The bridge that crossed the canal was covered in a thousand painted eyes. It was Braavosi custom that whenever a duel occurred at the Moon Pool the victor was to come to this bridge and paint an eye in honor of the man he'd slayed. It was homage to their valiant opponent. The commoners said the eyes of the dead Braavosi warriors watched the city from the bridge. Now, Arya followed Gendry while the eyes followed her. At the end of the bridge he turned right and she saw him enter the Foghouse.

**Is this too unrealistic or farfetched guys?**


	5. Chapter 5 - At last

**A/N: So, I've been getting a lot of visitors regularly, but no reviews. Womp, womp =(. Thank you so much for coming back. For all of you that are reading, reviews are motivating and also let me know what's going on at your end of the computer screen. Do you like it? Do you have any suggestions? As always, thank you ****HarryPotterNut94****, you keep me sane. Since you told me to hurry up I did. Also, I figured it was a fair trade off, two chapters today, so that I can study the rest of the week. **

They'd been at it for hours. Sweat ran into her eyes. The salty mixture stung her pupils and clouded her vision. She drew her right arm across her forehead to wipe away the moisture. Her hair was plastered to her face and neck. Beads of perspiration ran down her spine, and the underarms of her shirt were soaked through. Her cheeks flushed a rosy color and her breaths came out in quick succession. With immense concentration Arya circled her opponent. Like predator and prey they danced around each other. Her stormy gaze was alight with a fire that she usually suppressed. Long ago she learned that rather than being destructive, she decided to focus her attention on training. Whenever she became particularly angry Jaqen met with her in the floors below the House of Black and White and they sparred with blunted swords. The good thing about fighting her Lorathi partner was that he rarely asked questions. The girl couldn't get her unexpected visitor out of mind. _Gendry._

When they started sword fighting a few years ago Arya realized that only then could she push away the thoughts pervading her mind. She did as her dancing master taught her. She listened with her ears and watched with her eyes. Her opponent began to lumber slowly towards her. The effort of carrying his height and weight tired him quickly. She prided herself on discovering her opponents' weaknesses. Jaqen was large. His brute force was to his advantage but his hulking frame moved more sluggishly than her lithe figure. He easily tired from having to constantly readjust his body to follow her agile movements. In combat his strength would over power her, that's why she needed to tire him out. Her left-handedness was also to her advantage, because not many swordsmen used this arm. She repeated Syrio's mantra over and over again in her head. _Swift as a deer. Quiet as a shadow. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Quick as a snake. Calm as still water. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Strong as a bear. Fierce as a wolverine. Fear cuts deeper than swords. The man who fears losing has already lost. _The repetition of the old saying drowned out the idea of Gendry.

With a surge of speed Arya hit the Lorathi in his mid-section. She then darted to the side and hit him in the shins. He grunted in pain. The sound made her smirk in satisfaction. While he tried to regain his balance, she came up behind him and jumped on his back. She masterfully held her blade to his throat and muttered "Dead." Jaqen chuckled quietly and dropped his sword. He then reached around his back and grabbed her by the scruff of her collar. He puller her to the front of him and looked into her eyes for a long second. Arya saw his eyes crinkle and his jaw relax as he smiled. Jaqen rarely smiled, but when he did it was nice to see. It changed his face somehow, his real face. Gently he placed her on the floor and then sat down on the cold stone. The candles that lit the walls threw shadows across the room. The dim light was Arya's doing. She felt that the relative darkness heightened her senses and awareness. It made her train harder. From where he was sitting he motioned for her to join him by patting the ground next to him. Reluctantly she sat and waited for him to speak.

"A girl is getting better."

She smirked at the praise.

"A man can tell that a girl is also angry."

No response.

"Why"?

Arya grumbled in annoyance and knew he would not let it go. They were partners and knew almost everything about one another. The Lorathi was the closest thing she had to a friend here and he was obstinately loyal. He deserved her honesty. The quicker she told him the sooner it would be over with. She sighed deeply and started.

"Jaqen what do you remember of our time in the Seven Kingdoms"?

"A man remembers a girl dressed badly as a boy. He remembers a fiery young girl who had more attitude than sense. A man recalls a girl saving him, and for that he will forever be in a girl's debt. On the King's Road a girl was still a child. In Harrenhal a man realized the girl was strong, it made him want to help her. This man admired resiliency, and the girl's desire to live. He remembers a hunger in her. A man does not see it anymore."

She was taken back by his honesty and couldn't think of how to respond. _Had she truly lost her will to live?_ Arya felt a constant dullness within her but she became so accustomed to it that she didn't remember what it was like to feel. She sat in quiet contemplation and tried to organize her thoughts. After a few moments she asked,

"What do you remember about the people we traveled with in Westeros"?

"A man remembers many people. He knows Yoren, and the two men he shared a cage with. He knows the men of Harrenhal. Lastly, he remembers a girl and her companion. The boy had a bull helm, and wore the clothes of a Westerosi commoner. The boy was a few years the girl's elder. He was fiercely stubborn, and unflinchingly loyal. A boy protected a girl. A boy was the girl's friend. A boy loved a girl."

Arya felt the tears well up in her eyes and the lump form in her throat. She battled to swallow it and regain her composure. She was strong. She was a wolf. Arya did not let the tears spill over her lids. Instead she straightened her back as to look stronger and stared straight into Jaqen's eyes.

"Arya, what is wrong"?

Her partner never called her by her first name; it wasn't his custom. He knew there was something wrong but waited until she was ready to tell him. Arya appreciated that.

"Jaqen, do you know the Westerosi envoy that I met with last night? It was Gendry, and I'm meeting him again tonight."

Jaqen's face turned to stone. His expression was grim and he did not speak for a long while. Arya worried what troubled him but decided to give him the same respect that he'd given her. She waited for him to speak. An uncomfortable silence fell over them. They both sat next to one another, neither of them looking at the other.

"A girl must not tell the boy. It isn't safe. A girl is no longer Arya Stark"

She looked up into his eyes and said, "Jaqen, I have to."

And thought to herself, _I still am._

Gendry –

Gendry's apprehension was palpable. He paced back and forth in his cramped room. Four strides this way and then four strides back. Every once in a while he wrung his hands together or clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He couldn't get the memory of the woman's grey eyes out of his head. He knew those eyes, he'd dreamt of them every night. _Stupid,_ he thought. _Focus, you have a job to do. Stop reviving dead ghosts._

Since when was a woman part of the Faceless Men? _I thought they were men. _It's not that Gendry thought less of women. It's just this girl in particular looked so fragile, and innocent. Ironic, since he'd heard she was a courtesan. She seemed delicate. Her womanly shape looked easily breakable, and her small frame seemed slight. He learned long ago not to doubt a woman. After all he'd met too many women that put even the strongest knight to shame. Arya was resourceful and cunning. She fought ferociously and methodically. Lady Brienne was the strongest person he knew, and also the kindest.

The Lysene girl was beautiful no doubt, but she held none of the appeal a certain she-wolf did for him. _Stop thinking about Arya, _he shouted to himself_. _He grasped the sides of his head in frustration and tugged at the roots of his hair. Gendry rubbed his face, only to remember he shaved his bear off this morning. There was no point of the disguise, the girl new who he was. Plus the thing itched to no end.

Thoughts of the previous night came unbidden to his head. _She knew me._ How, he did not know. But the girl definitely recognized him. In a quarter of an hour he'd leave to meet her and ask just how she knew him. He didn't care she was an assassin, he wanted to know why she reacted the way she did. He began to prepare for his meeting. Just because she knew who he was didn't mean that everyone else had to know. Gendry pulled off his dirty garb and sat on the edge of the bed stark naked. Methodically he dressed in the Braavosi custom. First he put on his small clothes. He placed one leg in each hole, and then pulled it up to his muscled waist. Next he hauled his white shirt over his neck. He slowly placed his arms through the sleeves and brought the shirt over his sinewy back. Then he pulled his breeches over his thick calves and up his long legs. He tied his pants and pulled on his leather shoes. Finally he donned his feathered cloak As he left the room he looked to the bed and saw the mask still on its surface. He left it there and closed the door.

He walked up the steps from below the bar and nodded to the innkeeper. Earlier that morning the man gave him directions to Moroggo's. He had to follow the canal and make his was to Ragman's Harbor. Next to the Happy Port and across from the Black Bargeman, was his destination. The knight exited the Foghouse and was met by a cool breeze coming from the canal. Immediately he walked along the waterway and followed the noises of the city. After ten minutes of walking, the channel brought him to the entrance of the port. All around he saw foreigners of every walk of life. The pale Lysene walked towards the Happy Port. Tyroshi salesmen entered the Outcast Inn. Pentoshi sellswords played the finger game with one another on the dock. Quickly he walked towards Moroggo's and stopped at the door. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. Finally he entered.

A fast glance around the room and his gaze locked with the assassin. He took in his surroundings and saw every man in the room ogling her like a piece of meat. He shook his head in distaste. Gendry walked to the table and sat down across from her. Unlike the previous night, she wore men's clothing. The cloth was finely made, and fit her snuggly. He looked to her and waited for her to speak. She purposefully drank her mead. The woman took small and precise sips until the entire glass was empty. It took a few minutes for her to finish agonizingly slowly. Gendry began tapping his foot impatiently on the ground. _Is she ever going to speak?_

A server came over to the table and placed a tray of fresh seafood on the table. Before him were oysters, and clams, and mussels. Piles of crab legs, mounds of scallops, and pieces f fresh lobster meat littered the plate. The attendant also placed a mug of ale in front of him. The girl motioned for him to eat. Reluctantly, he reached for the plate and took a clam in his hand. He brought it to his mouth and chewed the fleshy meat. Surprisingly it was very good. He watched his companion reach a delicate hand to the plate and pick up a crab leg. She grabbed her knife and masterfully sliced the shell in two and grabbed the chunky meat inside. His eyes widened at her precision. She then dipped the fish in a red sauce. Gendry mimicked her with his own piece of fish. _Gods, that was spicy!_ He began to choke and splutter on the smoky condiment and reached for his ale. He gulped down a large portion of it and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as his eyes began to water. The knight looked up and saw her laughing at him. _Did everything he do make this girl laugh at him?_ She politely covered her mouth to hold back her laughter and averted her gaze from his. Despite her jovial appearance she looked preoccupied. There was a tightness to her gaze that wasn't there when he first met her. _Had he done something to offend her, _he thought. The last thing he needed was to upset a Faceless Man. They made there way through their food silently, and each drank two glasses of beer. _Why isn't she speaking to me?_

After some time they both looked up at one another replete. The fish was gone. All that remained of the food were the shells. The girl across from him put down a handful of money and got up from her seat. She motioned for him to follow her. He stood and watched her exit through the front door. He followed closely behind her. They wound there way through the groups of people until they got to a less populated area. They walked along the streets of houses five stories tall. The grey stone of the buildings leaned against one another. The slim buildings were topped with peaked tile roofs. The woman led him through Braavos for over thirty minutes.

Finally they arrived at a deserted part of the city. The sign indicated it was the

Drowned Town. The innkeeper of the Foghouse told him of this part of the capital. He said it was an area of Braavos where the town had fallen into the lagoon and only the domes and towers of the old buildings were visible above the surface of the water. He was right. In an eerie way it was kind of beautiful. The solitude of the place was hauntingly picturesque. He took in the view before him and looked to the girl next to him. She sat on the edge of the road where the city met the sunken streets. The courtesan motioned for him to sit across from her. Gendry sat on the ground and crossed his legs in front of him. The two looked at one another for an agonizing amount of time. _Why did she bring me here,_ he thought. _Oh no, is she going to kill me? Is that why I'm here?_ His heart started to palpitate and his nerves got the better of him._ No, I'm not a coward, _he said to himself. He repeated to himself the saying he'd said so many times when he'd been scared. _Fear cuts deeper than swords._ Defiantly he looked at the girl across from him and showed her that he wasn't backing down. He'd planned on asking her how she knew him.

Gendry had been so preoccupied that he hadn't noticed her fidgeting. Now that he looked at her properly he saw her toying with the ends of her waist long blonde hair. Every so often she gave him a nervous look. _What was going on?_ Just as he was about to ask her she suddenly moved. The girl reached to her neck with both hands and planted them behind her ears. Slowly she began to pull at her skin. He looked at her in alarm. In the time he blinked, the blonde locks were gone and someone else replaced the pale face of the Lysene girl. In place of the courtesan was the face he saw in his dreams every night. Her hair was the same but different. The same chocolate brown covered her head but fell to her mid-back. Her piercing gray eyes looked into him, not at him. Her skin was the color of cream and her expression remained passive. Gendry couldn't believe what he was seeing. One hundred thoughts exploded in his head. He opened and closed his mouth quite a few times, but no sound came out. His pulse raced and a buzzing sound filled his ears. He clenched and unclenched his jaw about fifty times. He knew that she was waiting for him to speak, but he couldn't string any coherent words together. After a few moments he managed to coax one word from him lips.

"Arya."


	6. Chapter 6 - Reacquainted

**A/N: Sorry this took a while; real life has been getting in the way. The next few chapters will probably focus on Arya and Gendry becoming reacquainted with one another. Also, their POVs will probably switch around in terms of which goes first. Or if they're together it may just be from one POV. Hope you don't mind. If you guys do, I'll go back to the old way. I promise action and conflict is to come. Enjoy! **

Arya:

Arya counted to the number one hundred in her head. _Patience, _she thought. Across from her, Gendry's face contorted in thought. His dark eyebrows furrowed, while his piercing blue eyes scrunched up and he began to scrutinize her face as if looking over every miniscule detail of her. The line of his jaw strained when he ground his teeth together. She watched as a myriad of emotions crossed his face. First complete shock, then disbelief. She thought she caught a flash of anger behind his steely gaze, and finally a mixture of confusion and distrust. Arya looked away from his familiar face and down to the rest of his body. His fists clenched and unclenched. The muscles of his sturdy arms tensed stressfully. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, Arya opened her mouth to say something but was abruptly cut off by the person across from her. In a barely there whisper Gendry addressed her,

"How"?

She pondered over how to answer that. _How much could I tell him? _She thought of the consequences of telling him about Jaqen and the Faceless Men, of the struggle of leaving Westeros, of leaving the Hound to die, and all the events in between. She wanted to tell him everything and nothing at the same time. _What if he's disgusted by what I've become?_

In the years since joining the guild of Faceless Men, Arya thought of the few times she regretted her decision. At first it was easy being "no one". She'd been so consumed by rage and complete sadness that she wanted to be separate from her pain. Now, all these years later she longed to return home and be with her family. More than once she had to force herself to stay in Braavos and not go back to her home and rage war on every guilty person who contributed to the demise of her loved ones. But then she remembered that everyone she loved was dead and it didn't matter what she did, it would not bring them back. That was usually when she fell into the recurring pattern of apathy and indifference. Long ago she realized she stayed out of necessity, _Where else was there to go? _But, Arya had never been as removed from the idea of death as Jaqen, or the Kindly Man, or the other assassins. Maybe it was because they hadn't lost as many people as she did. Death was different when it happened to someone you loved. Her rage was replaced by longing. A new list of names ran through her head every night. _Father, Mother, Robb, Rickon, Bran. _The only ones remaining of her pack were Jon and Sansa. Arya learned long ago that there was no way of finding her sister and Jon remained at the Wall.

When she arrived in Braavos the Waif taught her the skill of deceit. She had become a skilled liar, and was immensely grateful for it. She learned to conceal her thoughts and feelings of her family. If her guild knew that she still thought of herself as Arya, there was no doubt in her mind that they'd throw her out. To them, she was the many faces she wore, not Arya Stark of Winterfell. The other assassins called each other "brothers". But, they weren't her brothers. Hardly any of them actually knew what she really looked like, and none of them gave a rat's arse about her, with the exception of Jaqen. No matter how hard she tried to forget she couldn't. In part it had to do with the wolf dreams. She still had them all the time. All these thoughts rushed to the front of her mind as she tried to decide what the tell Gendry. Finally she came up with a whispered greeting, "Hi." He looked at her in disbelief. After a few moments the color rose to his cheeks and she saw the anger bubbling to the surface.

"'Hi?' That's all you have to say after not seeing each other for over four years? How did this even happen? What were the chances? Gods Arya, I've spent the last years of my life fighting in honor of your memory. I thought you were dead. And all I get is a 'hi'?"

_What? Fighting in my honor?_ Her heart warmed in a way it hadn't in a very long time. Of the times she thought of Gendry, and they were many, she always believed he'd somehow forgotten her. After all, it was him who abandoned her, she always figured he got tired of protecting her and thought her worth too much trouble. Arya's mind drifted back to the last time they saw one another. "_I could be your family." _As quickly as the warmness engulfed her core it dissipated. She remembered offering to be his family and him denying her. All the hurt and anger she'd suppressed came rushing back. Suddenly she had the urge to shove him into the water and watch him drown in the rubble of the sunken city. Gendry spoke and she was brought out of her reverie.

"Wait… That's just cruel. How did you even know what she looked like or that she was important to me? I've heard that the Faceless Men were well informed but I never knew they were punishing. Why are you even dressed like her? Is this some kind of test?"

His voice became louder and more heated. He abruptly stood up from where he sat.

"Just take it off! I said take it off! This isn't right, you're not her!"

_What?_ _He thinks I'm just wearing Arya's face? Stupid bull headed boy!_ She quickly thought of how to convince him that it was really her. Arya almost had to hold back a bark of laughter at the irony of the situation. After four years a part, a miracle brought them together again, and he didn't think it was her. She wracked her brain and tried to think of a way to show him. _The Gods were cruel,_ she thought, _after all this time I finally see him again and he doesn't think it's me._

He turned away and was about to storm off. She began to panic and shouted out to him, "Gendry wait! Ask me anything; I'll prove it to you! I swear it by the old Gods and the new. I am not a lying."

She watched him take another step away from her with his back turned before he halted. Arya saw that Gendry inhaled a deep breath and waited for him to face her. For a while he just stood with his back to her. Slowly he faced her and just looked at her. For minutes they stood in silence. He just kept staring at her.

"I don't know what to ask you, to make sure it really is you."

Her patience was wearing thin. "Think, you stupid bull headed boy!"

At that his lips slightly quirked up into a reluctant half smile. She wasn't sure if he even realized it. She watched as he looked into her eyes for a long moment and saw that he was going to ask her something. Tentatively he walked to where she was standing until he was directly in front of her. For a long moment he just stared. In her own irritation Arya crossed her arms and began to tap her foot. Abruptly she let out a huff of frustration to which Gendry chuckled.

"How did you get here"?

"By ship."

He laughed, "always trying my patience. There's no need to be sarcastic."

"Oh, so now you believe it is me, stupid"?

"Don't get ahead of yourself, I still have a few questions to ask." He let out a sigh and mumbled, "You always were a pain in my arse."

"After I ran from the Brotherhood the Hound found me and…" she felt her throat tighten," he took me to the Twins."

"We found that out, we searched all of the Riverlands for you and found out that Clegane kidnapped you. That is why I thought you were dead. The brotherhood heard you were taken to the Freys during your uncle's wedding. They've been parading around a girl they say is you for the past four years. She's married to Ramsay Bolton."

"What"?

"You're brother Jon sent the King Beyond the Wall to rescue you. Mance ended up kidnapped, and they said you were held in Winterfell. I saw the girl once, she looked nothing like you."

Arya didn't move. It was a trick Jaqen taught her when she was younger. In an attempt to fend off fury she became perfectly still and unresponsive. For a few moments she would breathe deeply and then count in her head until ten. Jaqen told her she could give herself ten-seconds to be angry but then to push it away and focus on something else. The news of what happened in the North angered her. _One, two, three… _Someone used her name to take Winterfell. They ruled upon the bones of her ancestors and assisted in the murder of her mother and brother_. Four, five, six_… The voice of her father flooded her mind; "_there must always be a Stark in Winterfell." _In a moment of extreme strength Arya fought the urge to run back home and rip the Bolton bastard from the rooms of her childhood home. _Seven, eight, nine_… She firmly dug her feet into the ground and looked up at Gendry instead. _He's all I have left._ Despite not having seen him in over four years and knowing he abandoned her she still knew that he was the closest thing she'd ever have to family again. In that moment the amount of feeling that coursed through her body overwhelmed her. For the past four years Arya had nothing to fear, she'd already lost everything. Now that Gendry was here, she had someone to lose again. Her fingers itched to reach out to him. To stop herself Arya looped her fingers together behind her back.

Suddenly an important question came to mind, "What happened to Jon"?

Gendry looked at her sheepishly, "Arya, your brother, he tried to dessert the Night's Watch in order to save you." He looked down at his own feet in order to break eye contact.

"Gendry… what happened to him'?

"He's been held as a prisoner at Castle Black for three years now. That's all I know."

_Jon. _Arya just looked at the man across from her at a loss for words. He mirrored her expression.

"Are you really you"?

She nodded her head once.

"Are you really you"?

He nodded his head in response.

Unconsciously they both stepped closer to one another. In three strides they met and looked at one another, both a bit uncomfortably. Arya went to reach out her hands to touch him as Gendry did the same. After a very awkward silence they embraced each other briefly and self-consciously. As Arya lessened her grip to move away, Gendry tightened his grip on her and held her firmly. He pulled her to him and she felt him rest his chin on her head. She was so wrapped up in his frame that she couldn't help but inhale his chest. An immense heat radiated off his body as if he just stepped out of the forge. He smelled of lye soap and the salt water of Braavos, and of a smell that was entirely Gendry. She caught herself smiling timidly into his frame. Arya became aware of just how close their bodies were and became uncomfortable with heat radiating from her own center. She had to get out of his grasp. Her voice was muffled by his bulk. "Oi stupid, let go. I can't breathe." Arya began to shove at his abdomen pushing him away. Her efforts barely went noticed by Gendry, which only frustrated her more. She could hurt him if she wanted to, but she wouldn't, it was Gendry. He crushed her slight frame with one last powerful squeeze and stepped back. A ridiculous smile graced his lips and she fought back a bark of laughter. Arya didn't want to offend him after just getting him back, but he looked very stupid. Just for good measure she half-heartedly punched him on the arm.

"What kind of lady are you"?

"This kind… " She knew that's how he wanted her to respond so she did. It was question he had asked her a long time ago. But Arya didn't want to admit she was even less of a lady now than the last time they were together. The thought reminded her of Jaqen. Arya knew Jaqen would be out looking for her. She didn't want to return to her quarters so quickly. She was afraid that if she let Gendry out of her sight he'd disappear forever. Arya knew she did not want to leave her friend just yet.

"Gendry, will you come somewhere with me"?

Gendry:

Gendry physically bit down on his own tongue to stop himself from responding with "anywhere." Instead he kept his mouth closed and nodded his head. After he embraced her he knew that it was Arya. Her presence was so familiar even after all this time. Gendry just knew it was her, he could feel it. He waited for her to lead the way. He didn't want to terrify her with his admission; they'd just been reunited after four years. He reminded himself that Arya hadn't seen him since she was thirteen. _She couldn't know how much I loved her then, she was only a child, _he thought_. _He didn't know anything about this Arya, he just remembered the girl of his adolescence. He let her walk a little ahead of him so that he could think properly. He hadn't thought one coherent idea since she pulled off he mask. Every few seconds Gendry saw her turn her head back to him as if to check that he was still there. He would have chuckled at the absurdity of her actions if he didn't feel as if he had to make sure she was really there as well.

Arya walked to the edge of the street and took an abrupt right turn. To the side was the façade of a building with steps along the outside. They led up to the tiled roof. Quickly she climbed the stairs to the highest floor. With a jump Arya latched onto the tiles on the edge of the rooftop and hauled herself up. Much more slowly Gendry did the same. Arya's lithe figure aided her where his own bulky build left him at a disadvantage. Clumsily he raised himself up and then swung his leg onto the outer tiles. He then rolled his body onto the roof and away from the edge. Arya was already at the other edge of the building. He saw that she waited for him. Gendry jogged over to her and waited for further instruction. In front of them were all the peaks of the sunken buildings. It was breathtaking. The portion of the structures that were above water glittered because of the reflecting sea.

"Did you ever learn how to swim"?

"No, why"?

"Just don't fall then."

With that Arya took a running leap and jumped the five-foot distance onto the roof of a sunken building. Gendry gaped at her back. _Gods, she is going to kill me!_ He said to himself. He would never disappoint her though, so belatedly he followed her lead. As he jumped he felt his heart fall into the bottom of his stomach. It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. By the time that he successfully landed, Arya already leapt to the next structure. They soared, and dove, and hurdled themselves over steep inclines and slanting roofs. Arya was much more agile than he was and he could tell that this was a practiced routine. More than once his breath hitched or his heart stopped when he slipped or lost his footing. After fifteen minutes of this Gendry was completely out of breath. He watched Arya lift herself up the side of the tallest tower he'd seen so far. He had no idea how he was to manage the leap, or how he was to lift himself up the 30-foot turret.

"Arya, if I die, it will be your fault."

"Gendry, trust me, it'll be worth it"

_Trust her? I have always trusted her, _he thought. As he got closer to the tower he saw that some of the bricks were no longer there and that was where Arya placed her hands and feet to lift herself up. After a moment of doubt Gendry climbed after her. By the time they both made it to the top of building they were covered in sweat and out of breath. Arya sat on the roof facing the city below her. Gendry hoisted himself up and sat next to her. His breath caught in his throat. From this high vantage point you could see all of Braavos. To the west the sunset painted the sky in colors of blood orange, and red with lighter shades of pink and purple. In the distance he saw the Titan of Braavos. The tops of the different temples littered the night sky. The water below reflected all the colors and illuminated the buildings beautifully. Gendry thought, _this is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. _He looked to his side and then amended him statement, _one of the most beautiful things._ Arya had grown into a beautiful young woman. Her long hair was voluminous and the color of coffee beans. Her skin the complexion of cream was tinted with pink from the exertion of climbing the buildings. Her too-large eyes were a startling gray that flashed like storm clouds. Arya hadn't grown much in terms of height but her curves were rounder and her shape fuller. Beneath her men's clothes her hips jutted out from her narrow waist and her breasts strained beneath the fabric of her shirt. Gendry couldn't stop his eyes when they examined every inch of her. Finally his gaze settled on her face. He couldn't tell if the pink of her cheeks remained from the strenuous activity of getting here or from his examination of her. They were sitting so closely together that their arms brushed against one another.

"Arya, it's beautiful up here. Thank you for taking me. But, why are we here"?

"I like to come here to be alone. I've never been up here with anyone before. I just really wanted to talk with you about everything that's happened since we parted."

Her admission of never taking anyone here before warmed his heart. Gendry didn't know if she had anyone here and he really wanted to know about everything that happened to her, especially the part about her being an assassin. He still couldn't wrap his head around the idea of Arya being a part of the Faceless Men or her being known as a courtesan. He didn't know which troubled him more.

"Gendry, what's Westeros like since I left"?

_Not worth living in. _"The Lannisters' are barely holding onto the throne. Most houses are in open rebellion. Ramsay Bolton is ruling in Winterfell and he's ruining the North. The Wall is in shambles. Most of it was taken over by wildings. They live there peacefully, but the brothers of the Night's Watch haven't been the same since they imprisoned your brother. The Vale hasn't let anyone in our out since the war started. Riverrun is the now the seat of Jamie Lannister and a woman Brienne of Tarth. They are one of the only seats strong enough to fight against the throne…"

"WHAT"? Arya nearly shouted. "Jaime Lannister is fighting against his own blood"?

"Arya let me finish and then I'll answer any questions you may have. It'll be easier. So, Jaime is fighting to remove Cersei from the Red Keep. All of the Greyjoys are dead, and Pyke has no ruling house. Dragonstone is still the seat of Stannis Baratheon. The lords and ladies fight for power while the small folk starve and die everyday. Young boys are torn from their homes to fight in a war they know nothing about. It's despicable. The Brotherhood now has over seven thousand men fighting for them. We spend our time feeding the poor, relocating the people of damaged villages, and defending the Riverlands. We haven't got the resources to fight offensively. That's why I came to Braavos. We need the backing of the Iron Bank and the help of the Faceless Men."

"Whatever you need, the Faceless Men are behind you. My partner and I can help you with the Braavosi bankers."

_Her Partner?_ His heart shattered into a thousand tiny pieces and his throat constricted from keeping in the sound that reverberated in his core. A hollowness fell upon his chest and he felt empty. Of course she had a partner, what had he expected? Arya was a woman grown and a beautiful one at that. Just because he spent the last four years thinking about her everyday didn't mean that she did the same. Keeping in the anguish that threatened to spill over he said, "My men will appreciate whatever help you can give us." Gendry looked to his companion and saw an uncomfortable look on her face. He could tell she was battling to ask him something.

"How long do you plan on staying in Braavos"?

_I'm not leaving unless you come with me. _"As long as necessary."

"Won't your wife be upset that you'll be gone for so long"?

Gendry spluttered and couldn't hold back the laugh that shook his whole body. "My wife? Arya I'm not married, far from it." He thought he detected a sign of relief on her face, but it was gone in an instant.

He watched her smirk and open her mouth to speak, "Why what's wrong with you? Do they all run away when they see you coming"?

Gendry figured humor would be the best defense, rather than openly tell her she'd invaded his every thought since the day he met her. "No, I just haven't met anyone woman enough for me." At that they both laughed. It felt so normal to just sit with Arya and laugh. He hadn't found anything funny in years. Back in Westeros he was sullen and disengaged from everything. The war had made him hard and unyielding. But in the few hours he'd spent in Arya's presence made him feel like a young boy again. It was an odd sensation. Gendry felt as if they'd never been without the other's company, as if the last four years never happened. He wondered if she felt the same.

Hours passed and they were now submersed in complete darkness on the top of the tower. Gendry watched fascinated while Arya spoke all about Braavosi custom and the types of people here. They never discussed the Faceless Men but she spent a full hour talking about the people she knew here and the time she spent traveling the Free Cities. She told him of all her favorite foods that were native to Braavos. Gendry drank it all in, every miniscule detail made her more real. He couldn't help the smile that was plastered to his face. Arya didn't seem to mind. She just spoke of everything in detail, big and small. She finally took a break to breathe and let out a large yawn. _It must be past midnight, maybe even closer to two, _he thought. He didn't want to leave her but he knew she must be exhausted.

"Arya, maybe we should get going. It is very late after all."

He saw her face fall in disappointment. "But, we've hardly talked about anything, and I still have so much to tell you. I just got you back." He watched her clamp her hand over her mouth and her face turn red in embarrassment.

"I didn't mean to…"

He wanted to dispel any of her misgivings. So without thinking he reached out his hand and looped it with hers. Gendry squeezed it tightly and looked into her face. He tried to convey all the emotion he felt in that one look. Slowly so that he didn't startle her, he leaned in closer. When he was a few inches from her face he tilted his head to the side and placed a light kiss on her cheek. He then pulled back and looked back into her eyes.

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere."

**This chapter was really hard to write, I wrote it out in about four different ways. None of them seemed good enough and it sort of felt like I just settled with this one. I don't know why it was so difficult. I'm sorry if it's not that good, but I was having a lot of trouble with it. The next one will be better, promise. **


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